Lost in translation

We left our mooring at Fox's Gate this morning at 7.30 and wandered into Braunston turning left at the junction on to the North Oxford canal where we pulled on to the services.  I got rid of rubbish and filled the water tank and washed the side of the boat while Himself did the necessary with the cassettes.  That done, I set off to walk to Rugby with the dogs while Joe followed on with Yarwood.  The plan was that I would wait a bridge 72, the last bridge before Hillmorton Locks, where Joe could pass me my windlass and I could then continue my walk to said locks, prepare them and work the boat through. 
Something obviously got lost in translation...

Joe stops short of bridge 72 and waves through a boat that was following him.  Is something wrong?
I walk back towards to Yarwood to hear Joe telling the passing boat, "I'm picking up my wife."
Is he? Why? me thinks..
I get Joe to moor up on the 48hr mooring above the locks and enquire as to the change of plan.
"What change of plan?" he asks
"The one where you decide to pick me up and wave boats through in front of us to the locks." I reply
"I thought I was picking you up..."

Deep breath.. Let's just moor up and call it a day and I will do lunch shall I?

So here we be Hillmorton, just short of Rugby.

It occurred to me as I tramped the 7 miles to this point that the only time we have been along this particular stretch of canal was December 2008 on our very first outing with Jill and Graham on Nb Matilda Rose, long time ago....

 Braunston Turn

 

 On the service point

Tonight's mooring above Hillmorton